“This flu thing’s out of control,” Grady said, pointing his fork at the TV. “There’s talk of them doing quarantines.”“Quarantines?”“Yeah, like going into towns where infection rates are high and locking the place down. That sort of thing.”Ciaran laughed. “You watch too much sci-fi, mate…”

“There wasn’t much to coo at when driving along a post-apocalyptic motorway. A stalled vehicle here, a mini pile-up there.”

“Talk low, Talk slow, and Don't say too much.”

“And then Kassad was being helped out of his simulation creche at the Olympus Command School and the other cadets and instructors were rising, talking, laughing with one another--all seemingly unaware that the world had changed forever.”

“He was hungry to learn about things. Unlike most of us, he was the sort of person who insisted on living out his beliefs.”

“There are places that we are welcomed," said Triolet, "and places where we are regarded as a noxious weed, or as a disease, something immediately to be quarantined and eliminated. But where does contagion end and art begin?”

“I remember that day in early May after Le Vesconte's and Private Pilkington's brief joint burial service, one of the men suggested that we name the small spur of land where they were buried "Le Vesconte Point," but Captain Crozier vetoed that idea, saying that if we named every place where one of us might end up buried after the dead person there, we'd run out of land before we ran out of names.”